


out of the fire

by DoctorFitzy (KittooningMalijah)



Series: one big happy family [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Baking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Leo Fitz is Holden Radcliffe's Son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/DoctorFitzy
Summary: There's a very good reason that Holden isn't allowed to bake. In his defense, at least this time it didn'tcompletelycatch on fire.
Relationships: Agnes Kitsworth/Holden Radcliffe, Background Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz & Agnes Kitsworth, Leo Fitz & Holden Radcliffe
Series: one big happy family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148957
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	out of the fire

**Author's Note:**

> 4x13, BOOM, aired on February 7th, 2017, marking the first time we were introduced to this tugboat of a ship. It's been four years, and I'm still here, tugging along.
> 
> And, with how canon went down, I think these two deserve some happiness, so this is something fluffy and light to balance out how sad I still am about the Framework, to this day.

For months, the lab had been completely empty of helmets and extra servers and spare parts, only stocked with the necessities and a few extra SHIELD projects that needed some finishing touches.  _ Retirement _ hadn't panned out the way he'd intended it to, with every day free to do whatever he wanted. Fitz still had to work, still had to consult on things that had to do with his field, but it was better than field work. It was safer, and it came with weekends that could be spent with  _ family,  _ both in the sense of his wife and child, and his father and... whatever Agnes was.

Shutting down his laptop, he closed it and started to gather his things. Even if he did need to work for a few hours every day, being able to set a regular schedule and be home in time for dinner was really nice, and he was going to do it as often as possible.

"You're leaving?" The familiar voice came from the other workbench on the far side of the lab, from the man he was still getting used to being related to. "It's not four already, is it?”

With a shake of his head, Fitz slid his laptop into his bag before lifting it up onto his shoulder. “Almost. We’re out of Jemma’s favorite tea, and I was going to see if I could pick up a box on my way home. I’ll be back on Monday.”

Radcliffe scoffed and shook his head with a small frown. “We have tea. I think I have some of that brand she likes in the cupboard, still, from Christmas. I’ll send it home with you. You always  _ rush out _ on Fridays.”

“Yeah, because it’s the weekend and I want to go home and watch a movie with my daughter before she has to go down for bed.”

“Well, you should have family movie night here.”

“Where? You don’t have a telly in your-“

_ “Fuck!” _ They were cut off by a shout coming from the very living room he was about to mention, and then the high pitched beeping of the house’s smoke alarm.

Immediately, they both turned to rush out of the lab, following the sound of more expletives from the direction of the kitchen. Once there, it was clear where the smoke was coming from, the vents above the oven all but spewing it while Agnes scowled and pushed open the window over the sink. It didn't stop the beeping, or even clear much of the air, but it was a start. Better than either of them could have done in the same amount of time.

"Holden, what is in there? It smells like  _ burnt hair!" _

"Why do you automatically assume it's my fault?"

Fitz rolled his eyes and moved to set his bag down near the door, a hopefully safe distance from the oven. If they were going to keep the house from burning down, they would need to do more than just opening a window. He grabbed a towel from the drawer by the sink and quickly wet it with cold water, waving it through the thick air around them in hopes of helping to clear it a bit more. "Turn off the oven, so it doesn't get any worse and then we can  _ slowly _ open the-"

After the click that came from turning the knob on the oven, cutting off the heat, the door of it was pulled open far quicker than he was anticipating it. On its way up to the ceiling, the wave of smoke blew past his face, causing tears and a short coughing fit before he was able to wave the towel again. The dark cloud that had formed was too large for the single window to be of much help, filling more of the space around them and drifting all too quickly toward the-

_ "Leo, the painting!" _

Dropping the rag he'd been waving onto the floor, Fitz recalled the training that he hadn't used since he was a full time agent, pushing himself up onto the island in the middle of the kitchen so that he could slide across it. It probably only cut a few seconds off of what time it took to get to the living room, but a few seconds could potentially save the priceless piece of art on the wall. He jumped up onto the couch, using it to launch himself over the coffee table and get close enough to the wall to gently lift the painting off the hooks it had been hung on. "Where am I taking it?"

Between coughs and the sound of the sink running again, he got a few conflicting answers:

"The yard!"

"Do  _ not _ take it to the yard!"

Fitz clung to the frame and took a slow breath through his nose before going through his options. He knew, almost immediately, that the thing he'd been tasked to protect wasn't going to go  _ outside _ at a time like this, but there weren't a lot of safe spaces in the house itself. In fact, the only spot that was completely fireproof, in case things got worse, was... "I'm taking it to the lab! Aida's chamber is still there and it'll be safe!"

-

It took almost two hours to completely clear the smoke out of the main room, even with all three of them working together. To keep it contained, they'd shut the door to the lab and opened every door and window that led to  _ fresh _ air to make the space breathable while they moved around. If the air was warm from the barely avoided disaster, the oven itself still felt like it was  _ on _ until they were able to pull out the very charred...  _ something _ that had been left inside for too long. As for the smell, the original observation of  _ burnt hair  _ really was the closest to accurate, though what it was supposed to be was a mystery until Fitz was up on the counter again, jabbing the button on the smoke alarm with his finger to try to make it be quiet.

"Which one of you two had the bright idea to try to  _ bake?" _

Agnes was openly scowling while she looked between them, her arms crossed in front of her chest. It might have actually been funny - her clear displeasure, her husband looking rather sheepish, and his son in socks standing on the kitchen island - if the entire situation wasn't such a mess. Nothing had been ruined or broken, except for maybe someone's pride, but they were all safe, and the oven would still work once it got cleaned up.

"Well..." Very slowly, with one hand against the side of the island, Holden raised his other arm to offer up an answer to her posed question. "I thought, because I had a very clear and easy to follow recipe, I might be able to... bake a cake?"

The smoke alarm stopped beeping just in time for two simultaneous groans to be plainly heard, likely as far as the yard beyond the open sliding glass door. Fitz got down off the counter, not even trying to find his voice until he was safely back on solid ground. "I thought we learned last summer that you're not allowed to bake? Remember when he tried to do this same thing for my birthday but there were flames and not just smoke?"

He'd turned his head to look over at Agnes with a faint smile, still openly stressed from the turn the evening had taken but able to laugh about the situation he'd walked in on almost half a year before. The woman next to him let out a laugh at the memory, shaking her head and barely keeping her frustrated facade in place. "That's true. At least we don't have to replace the oven, this time. And now we know how to get the smell out of the couch."

They were too distracted by their momentary laughter to notice when Holden let his own smile pull at his lips, looking between them. Even if they were making fun of him, and it wasn't an entirely rare situation, anymore, two of the most important people in his life were getting along. It was exactly the kind of domestic moment he knew he didn't deserve, burned oven and smoky kitchen and all. "Yes, well, I wasn't using a simple recipe, that time, was I? This one was very clear about the temperature of the oven, and how long to leave it in, and... I might have gotten just a little bit distracted by work and forgotten to take it out."

Coughing out another laugh, Fitz shook his head and dug his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "Yeah, I'm going to teach you how to set a timer on the oven on the off chance you ever do something like this again. You've learned your lesson about baking without supervision, I'm sure, but just in case..." He stopped while he looked down at the screen, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a slow sigh. "And that is Jemma. With the  _ seventh _ missed call. Shit... I'm gonna go call her back before I get into any more trouble. Don't set anything else on fire."

When he disappeared into the lab to return the calls, Agnes took a step closer to the charred remnants of what was supposed to be cake. From the looks of it, even if he'd remembered to take it out of the oven, it still would have been dense and inedible, but she wasn't going to say as much. It would do no good to kick the poor man while he was down.

"Alright,  _ why _ did you think it would be a good idea to try to bake a cake?" Her words were gentle while she looked over at her husband, shaking her head again. "What occasion could possibly have caused this kind of shortsighted idea?"

Letting out a sigh, Holden let his gaze drift over to the cake before looking at her directly, his smile smaller than it had been. They could all make jokes and tease as much as they liked, but his attempt at a surprise had still been a complete failure, and there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. Even an explanation wouldn't do much for him, just then. "Well, it's almost our anniversary, dear, and I thought, maybe, I could surprise you. It would be baked today, and I could recruit Leo to help me hide it in the lab so it could cool, and then frost it so that it would be completely ready in the morning..."

"You did  _ all of this _ for Sunday?" She arched a brow at the thought, the sweetness of it making her face feel warm.  _ Of course,  _ he'd thought of something even sweeter than just a nice dinner to celebrate - thought, not in the literal sense. That would have involved an  _ actual  _ cake coming out of this. "I wasn't expecting anything  _ elaborate." _

"What did  _ you _ put together for our anniversary?"

She could hear it in his tone, the assumption that she had done anything that required nearly as much effort as his attempts at baking, and she took just a bit of pride in letting him down. "I bought a card, and Leo helped me hide an especially expensive bottle of wine that I picked up last week.  _ That _ was the extent of my plans for the weekend. I assumed you were going to cook something, like you did last year, and we'd have a quiet night in."

There was a moment of quiet between them before Holden let out a slow breath. "Oh. I really made a mess of things, didn't I?"

With a small smile, Agnes stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Only in the literal sense, darling."

After another short moment, he let himself smile again and leaned over to deposit a kiss of his own to her forehead - it had become a habit, kissing the spot that he had promised to heal, so many years before, and it wasn't one he was trying to break. The fact that he still  _ could _ kiss her head, that she was still around for it, was more of a gift than anyone could ever give him. "Let's get this place cleaned up, and then we can order in for dinner. And we can probably get your painting back on the wall before Leo leaves."

"We can handle hanging up a painting, Holden, let him go home to his girls. You can clean up the mess that  _ you _ made, and I'll go get the Degas from the lab. But, if you have any  _ other _ anniversary surprises that might put it in danger of smoke damage, you don't get any of the wine."

-

Sitting on the floor of the lab, Fitz held his phone to his ear and relaxed his weight against the wall. A few feet away was the frosted door that led to the rest of the house, and he could hear muffled voices from beyond it, but he had more important things to worry about. The phone only rang twice before he got an answer. His wife's voice on the other end of the line was full of worry and frustration, but it still brought a smile to his face, just being able to  _ hear  _ her after such a long day.

_ "Where the hell are you? I thought you were going to be home at the normal time?" _

With a short glance toward the door, he let out a slow sigh. "That was the plan, but da thought he could try to bake and almost burned the house down again. I'm sorry, I just completely forgot to call."

_ "Well, you sound fairly calm. Is everyone okay? Is the house still standing?" _

"For the most part. The ballerinas might have inhaled a little bit of smoke, but I'm sure they'll be fine." Fitz sighed again and rested his head back against the wall. "I'm probably just going to help hang the painting back up and then head home. Is she still awake? It'll be too late for a movie, by the time I get there, but I'll still be able to help with the bedtime story."

_ "First of all, it's barely six, now, you should be home with plenty of time for a bedtime story. And you know she won't even lay down unless you're here."  _ Jemma's voice softened, then, a smile obvious in her tone.  _ "I assume you gave him a hard time? He should have learned after your birthday that he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near baked goods." _

He let his own smile grow while he shook his head. "Yeah, he should have, but when have either of us ever learned from our failures? We have to fail... three times, at least, before we get it through our heads. Where do you think I got that from?" The sound of her laughter at the other end of the line was enough to help him relax even more - the evening had gotten a little insane, but he still had his favorite person just a phone call away. "Hey, Jem? I love you."

_ "I love you, too. Go hang the painting so you can come home. I'll set aside a plate for you from dinner. Drive safe." _

"You know I always do. See you soon."

-

In the end, after the painting was back in its spot on the wall and the air was clear enough that they could close the windows, Holden ordered their usual from the local Chinese restaurant. Their anniversary could be as fancy and elaborate as they wanted it to be, but the days leading up to it could be  _ normal.  _ That was probably what they needed, after so many years of being apart and the hectic lives they had. Even after finding each other again and finally,  _ finally _ getting married, things hadn’t exactly slowed down. 

Their domestic life together was only just getting started, and one takeaway dinner on the couch while their kitchen was unusable was the perfect way to mark their new beginning. 

While he let himself relax, he almost missed the chopsticks dipping into his own cardboard container of chicken. With a frown, he tried to knock them away with his own, though it wasn’t before she managed to capture a piece and lift it out. “Hey! At some point, you will just have to get your own orange chicken.”

Agnes laughed, holding the breaded and sauce coated bite in front of her mouth. “But I don’t  _ want _ my own, dear, just a few bites. And if we didn’t have our perfect barter system, you wouldn’t get any broccoli beef. We both win, this way.”

He let out a sigh, his eyes never leaving her. “Alright, but I’m going to start getting an extra side of sauce.  _ That _ will benefit us both, as well.”

“Oh,  _ Holden.  _ It’s not a business agreement, it’s  _ Chinese food.” _

-

The kettle whistled from its spot on the stove just before he heard the sliding glass door open, and Holden was quick to take it off the heat so that he could steep their favorite teas in matching mugs. They'd been a Christmas gift from Fitz and Jemma the year before, a set of four and a teapot that he was waiting to take out for a special occasion. Cream colored ceramic designed with blue and green watercolor patterns, somehow seeming so out of place in the kitchen that held mostly plain utensils and dishes.

That had really only started to change when Agnes moved in, bringing her tableset and various mugs that were far from the solid blue and red that had filled his cupboards for so long. It was a good change, one of his favorites, and he didn't want the changes to stop. When change brought with it happiness and the family he thought he'd lost, he was going to let it happen, not try to slow it down.

"So, we can use the stove again, then?" Even words meant to be teasing filled him with warmth, the familiar Australian accent making a smile pull at his lips. "Is the oven safe, too, or are we ordering in for dinner, again?"

With a small shake of his head, Holden moved their tea over to the island's granite countertop. "I'm going to clean the oven, again, just to be sure. But we should be able to have a home cooked dinner tonight, if you'd like." He added sugar and milk to their tastes, passing her mug over with a softer smile. "Did you get any painting done this morning? Anything I'm allowed to see?"

Agnes sipped from her tea with a small smile, shaking her head when she pulled the mug away from her lips. "I did some work on Alya's birthday gift. Nothing interesting. It's too cold out to do much work on the patio. I'll try again this afternoon." When she caught sight of his expression and his gaze, she shook her head again. "What?"

"Can I see it? Or do you think I can't keep a secret from a one year old?"

She rolled her eyes at the question, a wider smile threatening to break across her face even while she tried to fight it back. "If you want to see it, you have to promise me something, and you have to  _ mean it." _

Holden scoffed, sipping his own tea before shaking his head at her. "I'm very good at promises, we learned that years ago. Anything at all, especially for you." For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of red color on her cheeks, gone as soon as she shot him a pointed look. "What do I have to promise?"

"You have to promise to never,  _ ever _ try to bake another cake. No exceptions for birthdays or anniversaries or holidays."

"Nessie-"

"No. Don't use that tone with me." Narrowing her eyes, she took one hand off her tea to point at him.  _ "No _ more baking. I mean it. No cakes, no muffins, no cookies, none of it. Do you understand?"

"Well, I mean-"

_ "Holden James Radcliffe,  _ do you understand me?"

He let his shoulders sag while he sighed, dropping his gaze to the rim of his mug. "Yes, alright, fine. I promise. No more baking, because it's a danger to the household. I start  _ one _ little fire..."

Agnes shook her head with a sigh, turning around to walk out of the kitchen and toward the corner of the living room where she stored her things when she wasn't working. "Promise acknowledged. Now, do you want to see your granddaughter's birthday gift or not?"

-

"Is the kitchen safe or are you trying to keep our dinner plans a surprise?"

"Don't come in! I had to take the lid off to stir, just a minute."

"Holden, I just need juice from the fridge."

"Well, it will have to  _ wait." _

With a sigh, Agnes shook her head and leaned against the wall outside the kitchen with a small smile. It wasn't the first time since they were married that he'd taken over the kitchen, making some of the best meals she'd ever tasted. While he wasn't adept at baking, in any way, she hadn't tasted mashed potatoes better in all her life.

**(** _a few times, Fitz had joked it was because of the Darkhold's magic still swirling around in his brain. the only conclusion either of them had come up with for what made the side dish so creamy. they'd never seen him add milk or butter, and the last ten minutes of the process was a complete secret. the only person allowed in the kitchen for that period of time was Alya_ **)**

"Okay, it's safe. You can get your juice, now." He was smiling when she rounded the corner, staying close to the stove to keep an eye on the mystery dinner he was preparing. It was what he did for special occasions - birthdays, anniversaries, family get-togethers. Avoiding the kitchen while he worked was an unspoken rule, with very few exceptions. His wife getting a drink from the fridge was on the short list. "Do I get to know where you hid the wine, yet? Or do I have to wait until dinner."

She smirked over at him while pouring orange juice into a glass. "Do I get to know what dinner is? Or do I have to wait? Tread carefully. How you answer determines how I answer."

With a small shake of his head, Holden glanced toward the stove and sighed. "We'll reveal our surprises at the same time, then. I think that seems rather fair. Are you sure you don't mind me being in the kitchen all day? I feel bad, leaving you to entertain yourself on our anniversary, of all days..."

"Oh, hush. I'm a mature, grown adult who's perfectly capable of entertaining herself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to the bedroom so I can finish another documentary. And, after that, I'm turning on  _ Beauty and the Beast. _ The animated one. Because, and I can only make this so clear, I'm a responsible adult." She grinned and took the glass of juice with her when she turned to walk out of the kitchen. "I'll see you at dinner, dear."

-

When he’d said they would reveal their  _ surprises _ at the same time, the last thing she expected was to actually be  _ blindfolded _ while she sat at the dining room table. Then again, maybe blindfolded was too strong of a word when the tie around her eyes was loosely tied, at the most generous, and she could see almost the entire table in front of her. 

Agnes closed her eyes with a smile, letting her husband actually surprise her even if she had the opportunity to spoil it for herself. The entire house smelled amazing, and she was curious as to what he’d been slaving away on since before lunch, but he was clearly excited. She wouldn’t take something like that away from him. 

Taking his time to set up the table and pour two glasses of wine from the bottle she’d produced from the oh so secret hiding spot, Holden made sure everything looked perfect before he stepped over to her chair. He didn’t even hide his grin while he tugged at the end of the tie so that it would fall from its precarious perch around her head. The simple action was a signal to open her eyes, revealing the spread he’d prepared. 

At one side of the table, there was a small platter of garlic bread, between three different bowls of sauce. Across from that, on the other side of the candles that had been set up and lit, were their plates of pasta, as well as options for toppings - meatballs, sausage, parmesan cheese. It was a fully customizable pasta bar, somehow sorted into a display that would fit on the table. It was lovely, and perfect, and there was no doubt in her mind that it would be delicious. 

“Technically, I broke my no baking promise, because I had to use that setting for the garlic bread.  _ But,  _ nothing caught on fire.” Seeming very proud of himself, Holden sat down in the chair next to hers, rather than sitting across from her. That was another habit he hadn’t tried to shake - he’d rather be closer to her and able to reach out, actually feel the woman he loved at his fingertips, instead of keeping a table between them. “And the meatballs. Those went in the oven, too, but I think-”

“But meatballs and frozen garlic bread aren’t  _ baked goods.”  _ With a smile, Agnes reached for his hand to give his fingers a squeeze. “You use the oven plenty. The only thing I’m cutting off is your privileges to bake things from scratch. Let me take care of things like that.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek before pulling back again. “Now, I know you, where do we start?”

Shaking his head, he returned the squeeze of his hand before waving toward the bread. “There’s marinara, pesto, and alfredo, for sauces, and more bread in the oven, now, staying warm. Whatever’s left over from all of this can just go in the fridge to be eaten throughout the week. I made sure to make plenty.”

She reached for the wine with her free hand, taking a small sip before moving to prepare her plate. “Of course, you did. And we’ll still end up throwing some of it out. You always make enough to feed an army, even when it’s just the two of us.”

“We never know when we’ll get company,” he pointed out quickly, reaching for the plate of bread. “What if there’s some kind of apocalyptic emergency and we have to feed a team of SHIELD agents? You’d be glad for all my leftovers, then.”

With a happy laugh, Agnes set the bowl of marinara back down and reached over. Some of the sauce had gotten onto her thumb, and she brushed it on the tip of his nose before letting herself really grin. “I love you, you silly man.”

Leaning over, he held the plate away so that it wouldn’t get in the way while he kissed her forehead -  _ old habits  _ \- before straightening in his seat again. “I love you, too, Nessie. Happy anniversary.”


End file.
